


Lost For Him

by Nevermourn



Series: White Wolf Rising [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cole fixes everything, Depression, F/M, Post Trespasser, Sad!Solas, Solas is a jerk, Trespasser Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-03 07:16:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5281697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevermourn/pseuds/Nevermourn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She didn’t deserve to suffer for his mistakes, and yet here she was, in a prison of his own design. He had done everything he could to make it comfortable for her, but a lavish prison was still a prison. He knew it would be kinder to kill her in that moment. It would be so easy, to end her sorrow while she slept, blissfully unaware of his intentions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here, have some feels.

He had begged her not to oppose him. He had wanted her to find happiness in what little time she had left in her world, but alas, her opposition was as unforgiving as he had dreaded it would be. She despised his efforts to destroy the world, foolishly pleading with him to give up what he and he alone could restore. Once, she had believed that their love would prevail no matter how dark the smoke between them grew, and he had wanted to believe it, too. He had wished to the stars that she would find another way, or that she would find him, and strike him down with her magic. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to watch the world and the inhabitants he had come to care for burn in the chaos that he was destined to create. But he _had_ to do it. It was his duty. It was his fate, and when it was finished, and the veil nonexistent; he would resign himself to an eternity of torment for his crimes. He would fall to his knees in anguish, and beg for her spirit’s forgiveness.

He had known from the start that developing a relationship with Lavellan had been selfish and cruel, and yet he allowed her to persist, he had given in to lust and affection when he should have never encouraged such feelings. Her blood would inevitably be on his hands. He had hoped to avoid such a truth, often sitting in his library, trapped by denial, tearing through ancient texts in the hope of finding _some_ way to save her, and he had shed tears each and every night since the day he had saved her from his anchor, the mark that had doomed her future where she might have lived a happy and fulfilling life in its absence…in _his_ absence. The breach, and the anchor, and their relationship, and all the suffering he had caused her were just more mistakes to add to an already long and insufferable list.

Solas had known that she would fight back, though he had silently hoped to see her give up her pursuit. He had ignored her efforts, for a time, because he did not wish to encourage her with his presence. He had been foolish enough to think that perhaps if he had refused to interfere, she would lose interest, like ignoring an annoying sibling whose only desire was to irritate. But Lavellan had persisted, just as he had feared, and while the Inquisition had been disbanded, she quickly made new allies and they had become a thorn in his side that he could no longer afford to forget about.

He had finally approached her within the fade, quivering with anticipation. For years he had watched, a silent guardian over her dreams, chasing away any nightmare that dared to stray too close, but he had never been strong enough to face her without a crumbling resolve, and so he had fled when his love had attempted to reach out to him. But the day he had finally decided to speak was the day he had determined that enough was enough. He could have never guessed that the efforts of Lavellan and her allies could cause such irreparable harm to his plans. They had hampered him like weights tied to each of his limbs, not entirely preventing him from moving forward, but making things move much more slowly than they should have been.

She had been startled, at first, when he had strode into the glade she so often dreamed of, a place hidden within the confines of Crestwood where he had freed her from the chains she had not known to have been bound by. That was the day he had managed to rip himself away from her, despite his heart screaming in protest, and the cries that had wracked his body on the following nights. For a while, the wolf had not spoken, merely strolled closer while she watched with an expectant and so painfully hopeful expression. That was when he had pleaded with her to stop, to give up, to find a new love and a new life and cease her attack against him. She had sobbed, much as _he_ had wanted to, and with a fierce shake of her head, had denied him with a purpose that shone so clear within her eyes. Her efforts against him only increased after that, and he had stopped visiting her dreams.

When it became clear that there was no hope that she would ever release her grip on their past and potential (though impossible to him) future, he had been forced to finally step into the fray for the first time, with his heart aching against his chest, as her enemy. His spies had given away her party’s location, as they traveled from the city of Minrathous in the Tevinter Imperium, no doubt plotting on causing him more harm. He had ambushed them with a small group of his soldiers, and with a simple sweep of his hand, his opponents and former lover were left dazed and confused by the spell that fizzled with ease at his fingertips. With his enemies subdued, he had ordered his soldiers, with a heavy grief, to end the lives of those that traveled alongside his beloved. None of them had been familiar companions to him, all gathered within the Imperium to defy his plans, but he knew they were friends to Lavellan, and he knew their deaths would pain her.

She was the only one left alive, because he could not bring himself to slay her then, on the side of the road surrounded by the corpses of those she had come to care for. His face had twisted with such agony, that his soldiers had hesitated in their endeavors. He simply informed them to continue in a quivering voice, and to insure that the former Inquisitor’s allies did not suffer the slightest pain. A peaceful death was the best he could offer them. Solas could not afford to leave anyone left alive asides from the woman he had taken as his captive. Their threat had become too great.

Though his spell had put her to sleep before the bloodshed, Solas had the mind to force a sedative down her throat. He knew that if she were to awaken, she would cry, and scream, and beg, and his resolve would shatter like glass, and he thought himself certain to drop to his belly and crawl like a worm to her feet, wanting nothing more than for her to strike a killing blow upon his head. He would not, and could not allow that, and so she slumbered in his arms as he and his soldiers made their way back through the Eluvian he had hidden away within a nearby cavern, and into the base he had established deep within the Crossroads.

It was within his own ancient temple that he finally released her within the confines of a temporary prison. It had all the luxuries of one’s typical room, as he had insured. Her bed was extravagant and comfortable, a marble bath carved into the floor nearby, heated by an ancient fire enchantment. The walls were lined with shelves of books that he was certain Lavellan would enjoy, and upon the walls hung paintings of his own design which he hoped would bring his love some comfort. The room itself was fairly large, with dark walls and vivid crimson rugs and tapestries, but there was no door, and no windows, for the room was tucked deep within the crumbling temple of Fen’Harel, its only exit an Eluvian, smaller than what one might typically find. Its purpose was not as a portal, but a doorway, from one side of the wall to the other. There was only one possible escape for her, and that was by finding the key to the mirror, a phrase he had kept tucked within his own mind and those of his closest advisors, who he had decided would assist him in caring for his _Vhenan_. They were not words that Lavellan would ever guess, he was certain of it.

He had tucked her within the thick blankets of the wide bed, his eyes glittering with the tears that lingered there, but he refused to let them flow. He stood, straightening himself, but did not move. He simply watched, his gaze traveling over her features with a critical attention to detail. She had changed since the day he had taken her arm. Her features were sharper, her eyes were sunken and dark, and her bones were far more prominent than he was sure was healthy. Had she not been eating enough? Had her depression run so deep, that she was purposefully depraved? The thought sent a sharp pain through his chest. He wondered at what cost she had searched for him. It was not unlike her to devote every little thing she could to her goal, even if that meant starving herself. Whatever money she had, he was certain she had put it forth toward stopping him.

Solas lifted his arm, tugging the blankets down just enough to observe the bare stump of her exposed arm. She had been fitted with a replacement of dwarven make, but he had removed it because the fake limb of enchanted metal could have certainly made for an appealing weapon to his new prisoner. His fingers ran across the naked flesh there, and he found the skin was smooth. He had severed the arm with magic, not steel, and so the cut had been clean, and he had mended it himself with an enchantment upon his departure to insure that she was caused the least amount of pain possible. He was glad to find that there was no scar tissue to blemish the elbow. His hand then moved to her face, and he traced her cheekbones with a frown.

She didn’t deserve to suffer for his mistakes, and yet here she was, in a prison of his own design. He had done everything he could to make it comfortable for her, but a lavish prison was still a prison, and his beloved did not deserve to be punished for something that was not her fault. He knew it would be kinder to kill her in that moment. It would be so easy, to end her sorrow while she slept, blissfully unaware of his intentions. She would drift painlessly into the warm embrace of oblivion. Unfortunately, Solas was a very selfish man. He pulled his fingers away from her face as he realized that he could not find the strength to form the spell. He stared at her with the knowledge that she would soon awaken to despair, no matter his attempts to calm her. He had already broken her down enough, but he could not bear the thought of watching her spirit slip entirely from her body, leaving her as nothing more than a compliant zombie, accepting of her fate. No. He would kill her before that happened. He had to.

He would tell her of her companion’s deaths, because she deserved to know, and because he deserved the punishment. He would not press the burden onto the shoulders of his servants. This was a pain he would carry alone, as he so often did. He remained still as she stirred under his watchful eyes, a fierce yawn parting her lips. Her lids fluttered open, and he was in full view of her. For a moment, she looked confused, before her pupils flew across the room, and she discovered her surroundings with hesitation.

“S-Solas?” Lavellan gulped, and he knew she was trying to process what was going on. A sudden fear had begun to spread across her expression like a plague when she remembered what had happened before her capture. “Where are my friends?” She demanded in such a pitiful voice that it made him want to burst into tears. Though she had forced boldness into her tone, it wavered with obvious and fearful realization. Already, he could see her eyes watering, and she prepared for the truth he must speak of.

“I am…so sorry.” How could he not be? How could he possibly hope for her forgiveness? Did he even want it? No, he wanted her to be furious. He wanted her to attack him, clawing, and screaming and biting at his skin until it was torn from his bones. He wanted her to rip him apart until there was so little left that he was utterly unrecognizable. He deserved all the pain that the world could possibly grant him. He deserved hell. The wolf realized that she was still watching him, desperate to hear some other reply that was not the one lingering within her thoughts, but he could not give her the relief she needed, or deserved, because he was a monster. “They are dead.” He did not dare to mention that he felt forced to kill them, he refused to justify the blood on his hands.

Her wail caught him off guard. She had always been so strong; he had expected a rage unlike any other. He had expected her to be at his throat. Instead, she had rolled onto her stomach, choking on the cries that exploded from her small, trembling frame. In a rush, Solas moved to wrap her within his arms, drawing her against his chest as he pressed the back of his face into her hair. The smell of it soothed him, as he whispered with such melancholy into her ear.

“Ir Abelas. Ir Abelas. I do not deserve your forgiveness, but I am _so sorry_.” He could not stop the tears that finally found their way sliding down his cheeks, but he could not deny the bitter sweetness of such a release. And so they cried, she because she felt the crushing force of desolation and failure, and he for all the terrible mistakes he had ever made, and all the inexcusable suffering he had caused her, the most precious thing in the world to him. It was only when the darkness of sleep reclaimed her by will of one of his spells that the Dread Wolf managed to stumble toward the Eluvian, and away from her prison.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My only purpose in life is to cause Solasmancers pain. JK, I love you all, my beautiful readers. Shhh, it will all work out in time.

When Corypheus had fallen, they had celebrated. They had adorned priceless silks, tossed vibrant petals from the rarest flowers they could gather, sang in heartfelt tones the hymns of their blessed Andraste. She had endured their delight, though she had not shared it. Her view of the new world had been desolate and lonely, empty of all purpose, little more than an inconvenience to be forgotten when she slipped into the merciful embrace of death. While they danced and partied and prayed at her feet, she had lingered behind a mask of despair, and suffering, desiring nothing more than an escape from the life she was expected to endure. Despite all their hard work, all of the effort her Inquisition had put forth, she found herself with a lack of care. He had promised. _He had promised_. And then he had left, those vows unfulfilled, leaving her to quake in hopelessness, wallowing in pain.

There was a time when Cullen’s gentle knock would rouse her from her slumber, in which she scoured the fade for her lover’s presence, clinging to the spirit who called himself Cole as he drew curled fingers through her hair, offering forgetfulness with a solemn expression. There was a time where Dorian had forced his way into her room with fear in his eyes, hoping and praying that she had not begun to harm herself again. There was a time when Varric and The Iron Bull dragged her to the tavern for drinks, wanting nothing more than to catch a simple glimpse of what she had been, _before_ he had torn out her heart and left her hollow and broken. She had once flourished, so full of life, young and brazen, and then he had cut her stem, plucking the rose from its lifeline to leave only withering petals and thorns.

In the two years of his absence, she had not recovered. She had learned to tighten her mask of control, so that the others would be deceived by her tight, joyless smiles and forced laughter. She had learned to walk with a false purpose, so that her allies were no longer prompted to question her health. She had eaten the food her servants offered her, and taken the vacations her companions promised. Dorian was not fooled. He had always hovered over her, concerned but expressing his displeasure with only subtle efforts to assist her emotional state. Cole did not even attempt to hide. He had wanted to help, and so he had. Compassion had stayed glued to her side over the years, always watching, always granting the comfort that only he could give, and his proposition always open. _I can make you forget. You can be happy again._ There had been numerous times where she had seriously considered falling into his embrace and allowing him to pluck away all the cruel memories that had caused her such unbearable pain, but she never had. She couldn’t. She loved him, and she wanted to _keep_ loving him. She wanted to keep believing he would return to fulfill his promise.

Seeing him again had brought the slightest glimmer of hope to her gaze. He had led her there, through the Eluvians, as her hand throbbed with the anchor’s uncontrollable outbursts. He had meant to save her and she had known it, so when she had burst through the mirror and into his grasp once more, happiness had swelled within her heart. But he had crushed it with a simple gesture, told her all the truths he had been too afraid to admit before. He was Fen’Harel. He was the Dread Wolf. He intended to destroy her world. She had found herself pleading with him, wanting nothing more than to convince him that the world could be saved, and that they could be together no matter his identity because their love would prevail. She knew, though, deep inside that he would not submit to desire. She knew he would never cease to continue with his plans unless he was killed. He was going to tear down the veil, his own creation, and the world would burn in the chaos of the raw magic that was suddenly released across the land. New life would rise, like sprouts crawling their way through the ashes after a forest fire, and those lives would be Elvhen, seeking to restore their lost kingdom atop the corpses of the slaughtered. She would be left in the dust. He was going to leave her to die. He had taken her arm from her, as well as her heart, and spirit, and in that moment, she had wanted nothing more than for him to take her life, too. She didn’t want to wait. The end was inevitable.

The least she could do was _try_. Thedas deserved that much, as did her companions. One by one, they had left her behind; abandoning her to the slightest sliver of hope that she could bring him back to her, despite knowing her quest was futile. Cole drifted through the fade, offering what comfort he was capable of, holding her hand whilst she observed the wolf that haunted her dreams with a timid gaze, fearing each second that he would turn away and vanish into oblivion for eternity. His presence only served to encourage her efforts, for she believed he would not visit her in the fade so often if he had so easily given her up.

She had pleaded with Dorian, and he had offered her refuge, allies, and supplies, all means of locating her torn heart, and she had almost succeeded. She had almost caught the wolf by the tail. But she had not counted on the wolf turning around to bite her. The only thing left within her hollow shell of a broken body was regret. She shouldn’t have tried, and yet she had not been able bring herself to wallow in pity until the reaper tore away her soul. Now she had no choice. She was trapped. She had pushed the wolf too far, forced him to do something he had never desired. Could she blame him? His betrayal had stung like a thousand bees, his lies still lingering within her thoughts, and yet, perhaps if she had tried harder, persisted on speaking with him in the fade, begged for Cole to continue talking with him, he would have sought another way.

She sat upon the bed, back pressed against the headboard, and watched the Eluvian for any sign of activity. Her eyes were devoid of happiness, they swirled with an emptiness that would bring most to their knees. For the hour since her awakening, she had not moved. She had not even bothered to cry. Perhaps it was the same as what a Tranquil experienced, though she had undergone no ritual. Her spirit had been ripped from her body and flung into the void. She was numb.

She recognized the brush strokes of the paintings that stretched across her walls, but she found no comfort in them. She saw the plate of food upon the wooden table nearby, but did not have the strength to reach for it. She entertained the idea of reading a book, but her motivation faltered and died. She could have drawn a bath, but her legs trembled with a weakness that stretched from her ruined heart. Perhaps she could have returned to the embrace of dreams, but every time she closed her eyes, the memories sliced into her consciousness with newfound fury. Her fingers curled into the sheets. It was the most movement she could manage. Even breathing was sharp and painful, though she possessed no physical injury.

Dorian had told her that there was always light in the darkness. Where was her light now? How could she hope to find it again?


	3. Chapter 3

She did not remember drifting off into the fade. Her gaze had lingered upon the dim surface of the Eluvian for what had seemed like hours. Her eyes must have shut on their own, for she gave her body no such commands. Perhaps she should have been grateful, but the numbness seemed to have followed her into her dreams. The fade reflected it in shades of gray, a landscape devoid of life rolling on for eternity before her. She could not find the strength to form vegetation, or any other item of beauty. She was left alone to wander the empty void, her kingdom of isolation.

Because she thought herself to be alone, one might have expected her to leap with terror when a hand came to rest upon her shoulder, but Lavellan had lost the purpose in caring. The next thing she knew, she was enveloped within a gentle hug, and felt a soothing familiarity wash over her consciousness. The elf turned to find Cole hovering mere inches away, regarding her with a piercing gaze of frigid sapphire that seemed to slice into her very soul. She could only imagine what he was searching for…a way to heal her hurt. But there was no way to mend her heart. It was well and truly broken, shattered into a thousand pieces, little more than dust confined to a black hole within her chest. She found Compassion’s presence to be calming, however, pleased that they could remain together within her dreams despite her imprisonment.

“He never wanted to hurt you.” Cole’s intense eyes never wavered as he repeated a statement he had uttered a hundred times in the past. Lavellan bowed her head, because she knew it was the truth. Solas believed that duty was more important than love. He believed that there was no hope. Perhaps he had been the broken one from the very start, and had merely dragged her down alongside him as he had struggled not to drown. “Cold, gloom, hollow inside. He spends his nights regretting, his old pain mixing with new. His tears are filled with loss.” The spirit seemed sorrowful in his own way, his voice dripping with sadness. _Perhaps Cole has lost hope as well._ She watched as he shook his head with disagreement of her thoughts. “I have not faded. You should not fade, either. Your light is dim, starving, flickering lonely inside, but the embers still glow. He has lost hope, but you can bring it back to him.” Compassion’s voice was low, but there was faith within his tone. Faith for her. Lavellan crossed her arms over her chest and dropped her gaze to the colorless ground.

“How?” She was hardly audible, her voice little more than a desperate whisper. He offered an encouraging smile in response.

“Strength can be found in sorrow. There are always lessons to learn.” With that, Cole disappeared, leaving her to ponder what he had said. Find strength in sorrow? Lavellan could not make sense of it. Her grief had only ever harmed her, locked her within a suffocating embrace that threatened to extinguish her life with every minute that passed. But she trusted the spirit, perhaps more than she trusted anyone else in the world. He believed in her. Perhaps she should believe in her, too.

\----

He was there when she awoke, concern shining within pale eyes. Solas was positioned upon the bed beside her, his back hunched where he sat, fingers tightened around the plate of food in his hands. Lavellan remained silent as she observed his actions with silent contemplation. Her dream had given her a renewed sense of purpose. She had to find a way to stop Solas from destroying the world. If Cole believed that she could repair his heart, than she would do everything in her power to try. She would not give up on him so long as Compassion had faith. She was the only hope for Thedas. She was the only hope for him. His head was bowed, but after a moment the ancient elf began to lean toward her, holding out the plate within his hands with a pleading expression.

“Please…you must eat.” Solas had quite obviously noticed her lack of appetite despite the starvation that clawed at her stomach. Her depraved and unhealthy appearance was worrisome, at best. She considered the food for a moment, still finding it difficult to accept the relief that filling her stomach would likely bring. Shaken by her hesitation, he had reached over to press the plate against her lap, taking her one hand into his own to guide it toward a piece of buttered bread. She let her fingers linger there for a moment, brushing them across the surface of the food before finally finding the strength to grasp it. She could eat. She had to. It was just one small step to overcome on a stairwell of many. Her first bite had her hesitant to relish in the pleasant flavor, before ravenous hunger took over her limbs and she focused on devouring all that he had brought her. It was nice to feel the pain in her stomach ebb away.

She didn’t look up at him again until she had finished, and she found a small, sad smile of satisfaction cutting across his sorrowful expression. For the first time in years, she was allowed to take in his appearance. Lavellan was surprised to find that he did not look much different, asides from the dark circles under his eyes that mimicked her own. There was a fresh scar drawn across his chin, and she faintly wondered where he had received the injury. Clutched at his side was a book, which he slowly moved to hold out for her.

“It’s Varric’s… _Swords and Shields_.” The tone of his voice was agonizing. She could hear the suffering that laced his words, the desperation that shone so clearly across his features as he attempted to grant her some form of happiness, no matter how slight. She had never read Varric’s books before, though she had always sworn to the dwarf that she would do so when she had the chance. It would seem that Solas had overheard one of her many conversations with the rogue, though why his first choice had been _Swords and Shields_ , she did not know. It was likely because he was longing to grant her a distraction, of some sort. She realized then, that she might never see the charming little dwarf again, and had to choke back a cry of sick realization which undoubtedly disturbed Solas, because his desperate expression had twisted into one of pain. He seemed to be restraining himself, but managed to rest his palm upon her hip in the form of some light comfort. Perhaps he was afraid of her, or how she would react to his touch. “Ir Abelas.” The quiet voice slipped from his lips as he stood from his position and moved toward the Eluvian. He did not look back as he stepped through the mirror with a whispered word that she could not understand.

Lavellan gave the book he had left upon her bed a hard look, before reaching out to pull it towards her. She took the time to admire the cover before flipping it open with a heavy sigh. Perhaps reading Varric’s book would bring upon some fond memories, even if there was a terrible ache within her chest. If anything, it would serve as a distraction, according to the reaction Cassandra had given it.

She was unsure as to how much time had passed, engrossed within the book as she was. It was hardly a romance so much as it was an excuse for smut, but Varric’s writing was smooth and comedic, and she found that it brought a smile to touch her lips on more than one occasion. The book served its purpose as a distraction, as amusing as it turned out to be. The elf sighed as she marked her place with the bend of the page, closing the book to toss it lightly onto the blanket beside her. She felt a bit lighter, having indulged herself with the reading and the fond memories it offered her. With every word she had read, she was reminded of the crooked grin that so often graced his rugged features, and the sharp tongue he used to both charm and bring laughter to those around him.  She’d never forget him. The visions his book brought forth summoned the distinctive welling of tears to her eyes. She let them flow on the beloved dwarf’s behalf. Did he miss her as she missed him?

Lavellan took in a shuddering breath before peeling herself free of the sheets she was wrapped within. The pressure in her bladder was hard to ignore, so she quickly sought to relieve it before slowly making her way over to investigate the dry bath carved into her floor.  Grime caked her skin, and the more it remained there, the more uncomfortable she would become. The marble bath was fairly deep, large enough to accommodate more than one bather, for sure. There was some kind of drain within its center. At the side of the bath were three small levers, each one carved differently. The one on the left had the carving of a water droplet etched into its surface. The right lever represented fire. The middle lever was simple, with no apparent hints as to its purpose. Curious, she pulled that one first. A rumble filled the room, like two rough surfaces grinding against one another. Lavellan turned to discover the drain sliding shut. Interesting mechanism. She was intrigued.

The elf moved over to the water lever next, and activated it. An instant later and an opening revealed itself at the side of the tub, under the lever. Water flowed into the marble, cool and clean. She considered the idea of magic, and wondered what other things the ancient Elvhen had possessed that had been lost to time. She moved to flip the switch for flame, and was unsurprised when the fire rune in the center of the tub glowed with sudden life. Satisfied, the mage began to strip herself of her clothing, tossing the soiled robes across the floor. By the time she had freed her skin of the garments, steam was curling into the air, dancing across the surface of the water, which had not continued to rise past the rim of the tub. The switch had snapped back into place on its own, closing off the liquid’s entry into the tub. Efficient.

Lavellan slipped a foot into the fluid to test its temperature, and found it quite satisfying. She slid into the depths with a ripple and sighed with relief as she lowered herself into a sitting position, leaning back against the marble wall of the tub. Her gaze settled upon a nearby rack with an assortment of rags and soaps. She plucked the soap of her liking from where it was positioned and settled into the routine of scrubbing her flesh clean. When she was certain that every speck of dust had been banished from her body, she was content to sit back and relax. In a normal tub, the pre-heated water would have begun to cool rather quickly, but the fire rune shimmered with the same strength as it had before. She ran her leg experimentally across its surface, and found that it was hot enough to burn, but only slightly. Like a natural hot spring.

She spent about an hour lingering within the water, before finally finding the will to tug herself free of its warm depths. She flipped the switch to open the drain and wrapped herself in one of the towels she had discovered upon a shelf nearby. Next, she moved to investigate the drawers near her bed. She wasn’t going to put on her dirty clothes again. When she pulled open the drawers, she found them filled with clean clothes, no doubt put there by Solas himself, who knew well enough what would fit her slender frame. She dressed into the most comfortable thing she could find before settling back into the bed again. Lavellan found herself opening Varric’s book once more with a sad smile, drifting into unconsciousness as she read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't noticed, this is the second part of my series. You're not required to read the first, but...


	4. Chapter 4

When next she awoke, the smell of warm food massaged her senses to life once more. She turned her head to find a plate of meat and assorted vegetables waiting for her to devour. Her stomach rumbled with agreement, and she stood to make her way over to the table. Lavellan noticed her soiled clothing was missing from the place she had tossed them. She doubted that they would be washed and returned. The tattered robes were more likely to be tossed into the trash.

When she had eaten her fill, she left the dishes on the table, where she was certain they’d be removed eventually. Lavellan stood to stretch, before curiously making her way around the bookshelves that lined her walls. Most of the books were old fairy tales, Dalish legends (ironic), and historical tomes. She found a few more of Varric’s books there, as well. She gathered those into her arms before returning to her bed to read. There wasn’t much else to do, and she still felt numb.

No one came to visit her again until several hours later, and when the mirror began to shimmer, catching her immediate attention, it was not Solas that stepped through, but the elf was undoubtedly familiar. She knew she had met him before, but could not recall his name. He was tall, well-muscled, with gaunt features that gave him a rather sharp appearance. His eyes were piercing as they landed upon her. When her gaze settled into his, recognition slammed into her head and she uttered a surprised gasp. It was Abelas, his face cleaned of the Vallaslin she had seen him possessing during their raid on the temple of Mythal.

“Greetings.” His stoic voice slipped past his lips as he moved to place a fresh plate of food onto the table. His stride was graceful and eerily silent.

“Abelas…I was not expecting to see you again.” The former inquisitor responded, tracking his movement with wide eyes. If he was working for Fen’Harel, then what of the other sentinel elves? Did they all serve the man that was trying to tear down the veil and destroy the world? She briefly wondered how so many would be willing to subject themselves to such a fate. Surely they knew that most of them were likely to die if Solas succeeded with his plan?

“I imagine that you do not expect many things.” His voice held a hint of pity, but she wasn’t interested in it, watching as he gathered her dirtied silverware from where she had left it.

“What are you doing?” She doubted that he could be considered a mere servant, given his former position. He was a man of power, and no lowly elf, even among the Elvhen. That much had been obvious the moment she had met him. Even then, standing before her as he was, she could see that he was wearing armor, and he was armed, as well. The daggers he wore within the sheathes strapped to his belt looked quite wicked. She knew Abelas was a powerful mage, though she was uncertain as to what other skills he possessed.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” He replied, tossing her a light glare, as if the answer was obvious. In truth, it was, but she knew that there had to be a deeper meaning behind his presence.

“But why? Why you? Why not a servant?” She was careful with her words. She had almost called _him_ a servant. That would have been rather disrespectful.

“Am I not a servant?” He responded smoothly, and she nearly cursed herself. So much for her carefully selected word choice.

“Your Vallaslin is gone.” Lavellan pointed out, probing. Abelas nodded.

“Fen’Harel removed it.” He stated simply, his shoulders rolling with a casual shrug. “You no longer have your Vallaslin, either. He removed yours as well, did he not?” It was an inquiry that did not require an answer, for he already knew it. She nodded with a sigh.

“So, you’re free. What are you doing here?” She was genuinely curious as to what his intentions were. Perhaps he’d humor her.

“I am helping to restore my people.” His response was monotone.

“By caring for me?” It was an honest enough question, in her opinion. Keeping her fed hardly furthered his goals. Abelas sighed, staring at her with a silent and hardened expression. It seemed that she would not be getting the answer to that question any time soon. “Where’s Solas?”

“He’s busy.” The tone he used suggested that he might have been growing irritated by her little interrogation. She silenced herself as he moved toward the Eluvian with a hushed phrase, slipping out of the confines of her prison. When the mirror went dark, she removed herself from the bed with a heavy sigh, striding toward the table to relieve her hunger once more. She wondered just how long it was expected that she would remain within the prison. Years perhaps? Did Solas ever intend on releasing her? Was she destined to die within her small room? The thoughts hit her with a new wave a grief. She wondered, not for the first time, if she would have the chance to see her friends again. Dorian was probably worried sick about her. She could only imagine his fear.

No. She refused to roll over and die. She refused to allow Solas to murder everyone she had ever cared about. She refused to relinquish the world to the man she had once considered her greatest love in life. She would fight, tooth and nail, even at the cost of her own life, to prevent the mad plan of her former lover from transpiring. Fen’Harel needed to be stopped, and she was going to be the one to stop him. Cole had voiced his faith in her, and he would not have done so if he did not believe her capable of such a task. She wasn’t yet certain as to how she would escape, but when next the mirror shimmered, she would be prepared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're liking the story.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Solas POV.

The desk was unnecessarily extravagant, dark and smooth oak wood carved with intricate markings of vast forests and wolves. At least the top of its surface was clear of any such design, otherwise there’d be no purpose in keeping it. He merely needed something to write on, but his servants, as they had considered themselves, were most insistent on the day they had delivered the furniture into his quarters. He supposed it was understandable; they saw him as their leader and wanted nothing but the best for him. It was unfortunate, then, that such thoughts struck him with guilt. They bowed before him, prayed to him, and followed him without question, but most were entirely uninformed of his intentions. More lies that dripped from his silver tongue like honey.

The vast majority of his followers only knew that he planned to tear the veil from the sky and restore his people, but they were never made aware that such an event would cause utter devastation across the world, and that many of them would not survive into the next age. Only his closest advisors were aware of such a cruel truth, and that was because they were required too. He was hesitant to display any trust, but it was necessary. He could not hope to achieve all of his goals single handedly, and should he ever perish, he’d need an heir to lead his people’s restoration. So far, his advisors consisted of only four, each of them well known to him, from before the time of the veil, when the rest of the Evanuris walked the land. Out of each of them, he had chosen Abelas as his successor. The man was both strong and proud, and knew the weight of duty, for he had served Mythal for thousands of years. As the leader of the sentinels, Abelas had the experience needed to command, and the ability to make the tough choices that would often be required of him.

He had sent the man to care for his beloved, for he found himself unable to face her again. Her grief stricken face always tugged at his mind, pleading for him to give in to her, to accept her way of life. He could not allow such distractions. His mind was set, and she would not be allowed to disrupt it. He had to keep telling himself that the future of his people was far more important than his love for her. An entire race was at stake. _Duty over love. Duty over love._ The eyes of the Dread Wolf darkened, his mouth twisting into a frown. Once he had told her to harden her heart to a cutting edge. Now he found himself doing the same, taking his own advice. His heart was becoming a burden and he was never patient when it came to such things. Burdens were not permitted. They were exterminated.

_Duty over love._

Solas leaned back, away from the paperwork that littered his desk. Most were reports from his spies and statistics to show the growth of his operation. Staring at them long enough often made his eyes blur with exhaustion, but such work was necessary. A sigh parted his lips as he twirled a delicate trinket within his hands. It was a necklace, albeit an enchanted one, fitted with a small communication crystal. The former Inquisitor had used it to keep in touch with Dorian. His enemy. _Not friend_. Foe. Another target for his assassins, if only he could work up the nerve to send them. The tevinter human had been oddly silent in the days since Lavellan’s capture. He was likely worried about her, for the Dread Wolf had felt the crystal vibrate numerous times, his attempts to contact her, no doubt. Her lack of response was no doubt unnerving.

He had considered destroying the crystal, but each time he had tried, he was reminded of its importance. Not to him. To her. There was no harm in keeping it close. Dorian had been clever enough to place a tracking enchantment upon the stone, but such a simple spell had been easy for Solas to dispel. It was merely an object of communication, and posed no danger. If Lavellan were to possess it once more, she could do nothing other than describe her surroundings and situation. Granting her the crystal would certainly offer some bit of joy, and yet he worried that it would stir unnecessary hope between the two. While a rescue effort would be inevitably futile, he wasn’t fond of giving them an idea that might cause more pain when it failed. He didn’t like seeing her in pain, and he often had to admit that he didn’t like seeing Dorian in pain, either.

The two had warmed up to each other, despite their occasional disagreements. He respected Dorian, in some ways, and through the human’s teasing, he had come to realize that Dorian respected him, too. It would be a shame to bring about his demise. The vision of the tevinter’s death did not cause him nearly as much grief as seeing the lifeless corpse of his love, but it still sent a pang of regret shooting through his mind. Solas had come to accept that he did not wish death upon the fellow mage, or the others, but it was necessary for the future of his people.

_Duty over love._

She had called him selfish once, his precious heart. Solas had not denied her words, though he had considered them deeply. He often came to accept his faults, but was selfishness one of them? He did not believe so. Perhaps it had been, once, when he had imprisoned the pantheon and brought doom upon his own kind. In the present, he was merely trying to restore what should have never been destroyed. Was it selfish to feel guilt, and wish to make up for your own mistakes? He found no joy in destroying her world, but it was never meant to exist in the first place. He had created it by _accident_. The thought nearly made him chuckle. An entire world, shaped by his decision, a blemish upon a reality that was never meant to be, tainted by his foolishness.

He wondered what would happen if he ever decided to go public with his identity, to display himself for the false world to know. The inner circle of the Inquisition and the few new agents his Lavellan had recruited were the only ones aware of who he was and what he had planned. A lack of allies surely made the fight against him all the more difficult, but his enemy’s had not been given much of a choice. If they had requested help from the kingdoms, it would have been denied, for they would claim to be fighting a foe that was essentially the Maker himself.

The Chantry would deny his very existence. They would refuse to accept that he _, Fen’Harel_ , The Dread Wolf, an _elven_ god, as he was often considered, had put up the Veil. The Dalish would scream trickery and deceit. He was known for such cunning attributes, after all. Solas couldn’t help but scoff. It was at times in which he found himself reminded of the ignorance and closed mindedness of the world that he found such easy acceptance in destroying it, despite the loss of so many lives. Later, he would find himself reminded of such a fact, and would curse his mercilessness, but while he still possessed it, it motivated him, and he certainly needed all the support he could give himself. Perhaps it was nothing more than pride that drove him onward at such times.

There was a knock at his door, drawing him away from his thoughts, and his frown shifted into a more stoic expression.

“Enter.” The voice that fell from his lips was smooth and powerful.

The tall elf that slid his way past the door was immediately recognized as Abelas. Solas allowed his expression to soften, if only to show his companion that his presence was a welcome one.

“I have cared for her, and will continue to do so, if that is your wish. I was informed that you requested me?” The former Sentinel’s tone was as firm as usual, though there was no disrespect there.

“Indeed. Thank you.” The Dread Wolf shifted the necklace within his fingers. He had made the decision to grant his heart the small mercy of hearing Dorian’s voice again. He couldn’t deny the fact that he wished her as much happiness as he could offer, in what little time she had left. He couldn’t help but procrastinate, if only by a few seconds at a time, in hopes that some path to saving her would reveal itself. The thought of her death made him physically sick. There was a small chance that she would survive, but it was no different than the chances of anyone else. There was little doubt that the entirety of the fade crashing into the waking world would bring nothing more than utter devastation. It wasn’t until the chaos calmed once more that he’d be able to focus on rebuilding his people. The Elvhen would no doubt survive, as their bodies were born intertwined with the essence of the fade itself, and they would shift naturally into his new world. As for the other races, such an abrupt change would likely tear them apart. The few that would survive would require years in order to adapt to their new environment. He supposed something could be done to help the survivors, but their comfort was not at the top of his list. Rebuilding his people was the purpose of removing the veil, and would continue to be his primary concern afterward. Shifting his gaze to meet the eyes of Abelas, Solas extended his hand with the trinket hanging from his fingers.

“When next you visit her, bring her this.” It was not a request, but the order was not harsh. It was uttered softly, and his love for her was obvious to anyone that might have been watching. Abelas merely nodded and plucked the crystal away. Sensing he was no longer needed, the elf turned to leave, and Solas was left alone with his thoughts once more. Strangely enough, Solas felt his gaze blur with tears, though he was uncertain as to what had caused the moisture to gather.

“Let her go.” The soft voice drifted into his consciousness, and his pupils scanned the room in search of the intruder, though he had recognized the voice mere seconds after hearing it. The spirit had the rather unique ability to slip across the veil with relative ease, though he wasn’t certain as to whether or not Cole actually walked the waking world, or simply appeared to. The others never saw him, so perhaps it was the powers of Fen’Harel that allowed the boy to contact him so easily.

“You know I cannot.” Solas did not attempt to hide the sadness in his voice from Compassion. There was hardly any purpose in it. The expression upon the spirit’s face was unreadable, and a moment later, he seemed to fade from existence. Solas sighed, pushing the grief he felt to the back of his mind with a harsh reminder.

_Duty over love._


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dorian POV.

The mansion was eerily silent. Once, it had been filled with joyous laughter, playful jabs, and teasing. Now the shadows lingered amidst quiet, dusty air. One would think that the once vibrant homestead had been abandoned. The walls were lavishly decorated, but seemed dull and colorless without light. Starlight often drifted through high arching windows, but the curtains had been drawn to prevent such a spectacle. The only sign of life was a quiet cough that echoed through the corridors, and the flickering of candlelight that was confined to the depths of a single room. An office.

The man that labored over the desk inside seemed weary and stricken with grief. His movements were slow and rigid. The quill in his hand moved across the paper with an effort that was hardly graceful, and the words that took shape upon the page told a story of heartbreak and despair.

 

_To my dear friend Varric,_

_Just a few days ago, I discovered the bodies of my comrades, though there had been no signs of a struggle. Lavellan had been amongst them when they had set out on their task, but she could not be found. I have reason to believe that she might have been captured, and I suspect Solas to be the culprit. Lavellan believed she was close to a breakthrough and I have no doubt that Solas saw her as a threat. I have seen no signs of where she could be, and the tracking spell I placed upon her communication crystal went inactive the same day she went missing. I fear for her safety and I am uncertain as to how to proceed. My position within the Imperium is delicate, and I cannot afford to launch a large scale search effort with absolutely no clues as to where she might be. If there is any assistance you can offer in the matter, I would be most grateful._

_Dorian._

 

A single tear slid down the flushed skin of Dorian’s cheek as he folded the message and prepared it for delivery. He trusted the dwarf to lend aid in whatever way he could, and he did not wish to disturb the others. They were busy with their own lives, and he and Varric traded messages frequently enough as it was. His fingers curled into a tight fist as he slammed it into the desk with fury. _I should have gone with her. I should have been there to help, to stop him. Now she’s gone and it’s my fault!_

Not for the first time since the discovery, the human sobbed. He rubbed his fingers across the crystal that hung from his neck, knowing that if he activated it, he would receive no reply, and yet the action provided some slight comfort. The tingling of the stone was a familiar sensation that carried fond memories. With a shaky breath, he rose from his seat, hunger gnawing at his stomach. He knew he should eat, but the sadness that had curled around his thoughts practically annihilated his appetite. Still, he forced himself to move from his position and into the hall, heading solemnly for the kitchen. There was much work to be done and an empty stomach would not assist his efforts.

The kitchen was silent and dark when he entered. A flick of his hand and the candles there began to glow with life. The sudden change in atmosphere was a welcome one. The human gathered a bit of fruit and settled down upon a nearby stool to eat. The green apple he bit into was juicy and he savored the taste. His eyes closed as he allowed his mind to drift.

 _“Dorian, you might as well have been dancing.” The elven Inquisitor giggled as they settled around the_ _campfire for the evening. She was remarking on their earlier fight, in which he had made a particular show of himself, much to her amusement. The gesture had come in an effort to cheer her up. Fighting demons all the time was no doubt as dull as it was exhausting, and it had begun to take a toll upon them all. Adding a bit of spontaneous life to the fray had put weary smiles upon the faces of his companions and that brought him happiness._

_“My dear, that’s called flair.” Dorian couldn’t hide the satisfying grin that spread his lips._

_“Floundering, more like.” Cassandra butted in with a small smirk of her own. The group shared a chuckle at his expense, but the tevinter soon found himself joining in after passing the seeker an expression of mock offense._

_“And here I thought a lady would understand.” The tevinter huffed with false disappointment. The Iron Bull dropped a heavy hand onto his shoulder a half moment later._

_“I understand.” The Qunari was winking at him. Dorian was grateful for the firelight that disguised his blush._

He smiled at the memory as it passed before his eyes. Despite the doom that Corypheus had threatened them with, his life in the Inquisition had consisted of some of the best moments of his life. He’d never forget the friends he had made and the efforts they had spared together. The thought was bittersweet.

He was surprised when his chest buzzed, his startled gasp flung from his lips as he took a moment to recognize the vibrations of his communication crystal. The shock of the unexpected event made his fingers fumble with desperate anticipation. Finally, he was able to activate the stone and it glowed with warmth as he uttered a startled greeting.

“Dorian? Dorian! It’s me! Can you hear me? Are you there?” The voice of Lavellan rushed to meet his ears like a heavenly tune. It took him a moment to slow his excited breathing before he was able to sputter a reply.

“Yes, yes, of course! Where are you? What happened? Are you safe?” He had so many questions! The sudden contact filled him with a gleeful relief that he had not known he was capable of. She was alive! In that moment, nothing else mattered but her.

“I don’t know where I am, some kind of prison. Solas captured me. I think I’m safe, but I don’t know for how long.” His heart dropped at her words. He could hear her voice, but he was no closer to bringing her back to him than he had been a moment earlier. How cruel. “Dorian, there’s an Eluvian. That’s all I know. I have seen nothing outside of the room I’m in.” He sighed. If there was an Eluvian, than she was likely to have been hidden within some elven ruin. Unfortunately, there were hundreds of those spread across the land, and he had no idea where to start looking.

“It’s…it’s okay. I’m just glad you’re safe. It’s nice to know that, at least, and I’m happy to hear your voice again.” The human tried to sound optimistic, but he couldn’t keep the sadness from his tone.

“Well…we can keep talking. I have the crystal back now. What…what have you been up to?” Lavellan inquired.

“Oh, you know. The usual tevinter stuff. Infuriating the nobles, making noise at the banquets.” He didn’t smile, though he tried to sound light hearted. There was a long pause, but he knew she was still there. He heard the choked sob that burst from her lips. “Hey…it’s going to be alright. You can’t cry…if you cry then I cry, and nobody wants that!” He could already feel the wetness at the corners of his eyes.

“Is…is there no way to track me?” She sounded vaguely hopeful. He hated to crush that wish, but he had tried, and the tracking magic he had placed upon her crystal had been dispelled. She was lost. Lost and not coming back. _My fault…should have been there._ He wasn’t certain how long they cried together, but it was well into the night before she cut the connection in favor of rest, and Dorian moved to his room to follow her example.


	7. Chapter 7

The next few days were a bit lighter than the ones before. She spent most of her time speaking with Dorian, who was excellent at cheering her up. They discussed the past, pleasant memories that she had buried in favor of the more unpleasant ones. It was nice to be reminded of all the joy she had once possessed. Sometimes, their conversations made her lips stretch with a smile, and one of his jokes would make her giggle, which delighted Dorian.

A message from Varric arrived one day, and the Tevinter read it to his elven friend in a light tone. The dwarf seemed to be faring well in Kirkwall, but was, unfortunately, too busy for a visit. It came as quite a shame, because Dorian had expressed the idea of her speaking to the dwarf through his crystal. The sadness didn’t last, because the mage immediately swore to obtain another communication gem and have it sent to Varric as soon as he could. The process would take time as the trinket was not easy to craft, but the pair agreed that it would be worth it.

At night, she rarely dreamed. What Cole was up to, she did not know, for the few times she did enter the fade he had not been waiting for her. It didn’t take long for worry to start carving its way into her mind. She hoped the spirit was safe, wherever he was. Probably off helping people that needed him more than she did. Compassion was likely aware of her newfound link with Dorian, who proved to be quite the conversationalist despite the circumstances. Lavellan was grateful.

Sometimes, Abelas watched, asking questions about Dorian and the others she had known. Solas had not visited her again, but the ancient elf named Sorrow made himself known as her personal caretaker quite quickly. He smirked, on occasion, hesitating to exit the room as he listened in on her conversations with bright eyes. Perhaps he was happy that she was finally able to find some peace. She often questioned him about Solas. The first few times, he had offered simple, unhelpful responses, but the last time she had asked, his answer, though brief, had been surprisingly satisfactory.

“He is doing well. He eats as he is supposed to and no longer forgets to bathe.” The former sentinel had grinned a little, at that. Little did she know, he had been offering the Dread Wolf vivid accounts on the smiles and laughs he had witnessed since she had retrieved the communication stone. The reports seemed to make Fen’Harel’s heart a little lighter and so Abelas was glad to bring them. ”You’re good for him.” The elf stated, and there was a strange longing to his tone.

For the longest time, Lavellan had thought that Abelas resented her. It was his own words that echoed within her mind, after all. He had called her a shadow. She supposed it was the truth. The modern elves were nothing like their ancient ancestors. There was a time when she would have refused to believe such an insult, but things changed. Knowledge could only be absorbed by an open mind. Those that remained closed to it would be nothing more than ignorant fools for the entirety of their lives. It was important to accept the words of others rather than cast them away. There was nothing more offensive than having someone insult the religion you were raised to believe in, and nothing more shameful than finally realizing that what that person had said had been the truth, and you had shunned them for it. Being too stubborn to accept something new was childish. She had been childish, once. Never again.

Abelas seemed to support their relationship. That would make him one of the few. Sometimes, when she would inquire about Solas, his eyes seemed to darken with the pain of loss. She wondered if his name had always been Abelas, or if it had been a more recent change. Perhaps he had loved once? She decided to ask.

“Have you ever loved someone?” The question was blunt but she had tried to be gentle. Lavellan didn’t miss the sudden look of sadness that his features shifted into. The man sighed, shrugging. She was surprised when he didn’t simply ignore the question. He had a habit of doing that. A silence stretched between them, tense, before he finally nodded.

“Once.” The elvhen replied. “There was a woman, beautiful like the moonlight’s gleam on a silver pool.” His words were poetic, which suggested that he had once held true affection toward her. Curious, the former Inquisitor hoped the draw what she could out of his shell.

“What happened?” She knew he didn’t have to tell her, but he opened his mouth to explain anyway. Why, she did not know.

“Mythal wanted me for her personal guard. Relationships at such a high rank were not permitted. I could have run away with her, but instead I chose my people over my love. It was a mistake.” She did not ever think to see Abelas in such a tender state, but he stood before her as if there was nothing to fear, as if they were the closest of friends. They were most certainly not, but perhaps Abelas had found something in her that he could relate to. “I never saw her again. She died when Fen’Harel put up the veil, as so many others did.” His words did not break as he spoke them. Lavellan could tell that time had bandaged the wound sufficiently, but the scar would always remain.

She didn’t object when Abelas turned to leave. She figured that fresh memories required an evening of quiet mourning, although hers usually required weeks. She reached over to grab the crystal that sat on her bed, hoping Dorian wasn’t too busy to answer her call. He usually wasn’t. She hadn’t expected Abelas to speak again, just a few gentle words before stepping through the Eluvian.

“I believe love is the most important thing in the world.” Then he was gone. The phrase caught her by surprise, and in that moment, she felt the whole world change. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...what are your thoughts so far?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cole POV.

The Dread Wolf loved her more than life itself. She was the sun and he was the moon. He wanted to breathe her the way he breathed the air, he wanted to shroud himself in the smell of her for all eternity. He wanted to hold on so tight that he could never let go. But it wasn’t enough. His feelings for the woman were swept deep inside; a rose bud that would wither and die before it could bloom, leaving only thorns where his heart should be. Solas was a hopeless cause. He would never choose his love over his duty, no matter how much he desired to. His purpose was as clear as a stone path through a lake of searing magma. There was no room to stray without getting burned.

The spirit wanted to help, but even he knew when there was no purpose in it. For days he had stalked the wolf’s dreams, haunting, pleading, desperate and afraid of the future his friend foretold. Finally, Solas had locked him out, no longer permitting his visits. Cole was cast away, banished but not unwanted. It hurt Solas but it also helped. The spirit didn’t want his friend to destroy the world. The aftermath would be devastating. The pain such an apocalyptic event would cause would destroy every benign spirit that could not escape. Like him. He would die, perish in the blink of an eye, unable to stand against the flow of terror and suffering that would assault his senses. Perhaps he would twist into despair, or rage. It was an inevitable fate that could only be prevented by stopping Solas, and there was only one person who could stop Solas.

Cole did not visit Solas again. Instead he found himself in the former Inquisitors cell. The Crossroads was connected to the fade in such a way that traveling between both was a simple matter. He was truly a ghost as he moved. Walls and doors did not deter him. People did not notice him. He was silent, invisible, and eager to help in any way he could. Lavellan spent most of her time chatting with Dorian. Cole was happy that Solas had spared her such mercy. The human mage could make her smile and laugh in ways that the spirit never could.

For the moment, she didn’t need him. She wouldn’t need him again until it was time. He had a plan, hatched like a serpent’s egg within the confines of his own mind. It would help, in the end. She needed to be free, flitting, wings spread to fly, not drift. He would cut her harsh fitting chains and guide her with a soft rope instead, one that she could untie at will, not imprisoned but protected until she could fight again. But he couldn’t do it alone. Her shelter was made but he could not open the door to it.

He went to Sorrow, as they had much to talk about, gliding across smooth stone without a sound. They had spoken before, in dreams of restless sleep. Cole had shown him the memories that he had smothered, drowned him in them but also held him above the surface when he needed to breathe. It was a harsh practice that caused the elf a fresh pain from an old wound, but it helped in the end. He remembered when Cole whispered to him. _Love is the most important thing in the world._ Sorrow’s words, but Cole had made them his, a tool to pry and probe and beckon.

Abelas had retreated for the night, to the sanctuary of his room, beneath the covers of his bed. He did not yet slumber. His breath still came swiftly. There were tears in his sad gaze. When Cole drifted near, he made himself be known, seen, and heard. The elf looked up at him with eyes that were wide with surprise. The sanctity of Abelas’s chamber had been tarnished by Compassion’s presence, but the man accepted the intrusion with a heavy sigh.

“Hello Cole.” The elf welcomed in a quiet tone, shifting in an effort to sit up. Cole placed a hand on the flat of his chest with a slight shake of his head, pushing him back against the pillow. Abelas was tired. He ached from the day’s training. _Stroke to the left, a roll, a duck, a bound. Not fast enough. Training blade strikes shoulder. Blast! Vision lights with pain. The ache turns sore and it doesn’t fade._ The spirit didn’t want his new friend to strain himself. He was an excellent combatant, but exhaustion caused rookie mistakes in even the most experienced of warriors, and painful memories caused distractions that were to be spited in the midst of a fight.

“I know how to help.” Cole nearly whispered. “I know how to make two worlds into one.”

Abelas settled back onto the pillow, content to allow Cole to sit at the edge of his bed for their discussion, though the spirit knew that his intense blue eyes unsettled the elf. _Like piercing my soul, otherworldly, unnatural._ It had been a long time since Abelas had seen eyes like Cole’s. Perhaps, in the future, he’d be used to it again. They both wanted Solas to succeed, but they also didn’t want the world to be destroyed. _Not again._ There was a way to save both sides, but Solas couldn’t… _wouldn’t_ see it. Cole knew that love was mighty. The rare spirits that inhabited such a virtue were powerful. Love was a fire that could burn without fuel and Abelas knew that better than most. Sorrow still loved her, even though she was gone. He’d never forget. Cole couldn’t make him, even if he had tried. Love was stronger than compassion.

In the end, love would save them all. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abelas POV.

He tried not to make too much noise as he walked. Years of practice allowed him to move with all the grace of any rogue, but he was not the only well trained elf that lurked the halls. It was quiet so late at night. No stars shone in the sky above the Crossroads, but the drifting mist seemed to sparkle like frost, cascading through the open windows of the ancient temple like enchanted dust. The only activity of the evening was that of the sentries that patrolled the halls, though even they were few and far between. There was little to fear in a place so few knew about. Abelas would have believed that guards were not necessary at all, but Fen’Harel was a paranoid man who made contingencies for contingencies. For the Wolf, failure was not an option.

Tonight, Solas would have to make an exception. Over the past few days, the spirit who called himself Cole had made frequent visits to Abelas’s chambers and dreams. The first time it had happened, he had feared that the Dread Wolf would be watching their conversations in the Fade, but the spirit always assured him that they were safe, and that he knew where Solas went when he dreamed. Trusting Cole had come easily. Spirits like him didn’t lie, they had no need to. Compassion wanted to help and he believed he knew how, and Abelas wanted to have hope for the future just as Cole did.

Once he had made a mistake that had cost him the most precious thing in his world. Now he watched Solas walk the same path and he couldn’t help but feel a personal regret for the Dread Wolf’s actions. He didn’t hate the Wolf for the death of his beloved. The Evanuris had been rampaging like heartless tyrants, slaughtering their kin with gleeful laughter. Their imprisonment had been necessary. He briefly wondered what Solas planned to do when the old gods were free once more. Perhaps the Wolf hoped to redeem them, so they could lend their help in the rebuilding of the Elvhen? But Abelas believed that there was no redemption for them. They were rotten to the core and there was no way to recover from that.

Abelas blamed himself for his loss. He had not been there to protect his heart. Her death was not a direct result of his actions, but he should have been there for her. He should have been pressing soft kisses to her lips and holding her close as the Fade was torn from the Waking world. If she had to have died, her last thoughts should have been on how much she was loved, not wondering why she had been abandoned. He often wondered what her last thoughts had been. _I never got to tell her how much I loved her._ Now he looked on Solas and saw a reflection of himself, and when he looked at Lavellan, he saw his love, so much hurt within her gaze.

He didn’t want the couple to fall down the same dark path that he had. It would be worse for Solas, he knew. Lavellan’s death _would_ be a direct result of Fen’Harel’s actions. He’d never forgive himself, just as Abelas never could. It was an unbearable torture that he didn’t wish inflicted upon his worst enemy. Solas wasn’t necessarily a friend, but they respected one another. He thought that after all the Wolf had been through, he deserved some happiness, in the end, and he knew of no reason why Lavellan should suffer such a cruel fate. She had done nothing to deserve it.

Finally he turned down the dark, empty hall that held the former Inquisitor’s Eluvian. Beside him, he sensed the warm presence of Cole, but could see nothing of the boy. It was a small comfort. They had a plan, but it was Cole that would commandeer the majority of it. Where the spirit could travel, Abelas never could, and where he would take the woman, the elf did not fully comprehend. All he knew was that Cole truly believed that what they were doing would work. It would save the new world and the old, and it would save her and Solas too. All the old elf could do was trust that Compassion would succeed.

He reached the Eluvian and pressed a gentle hand to its shining surface. It glowed in response to a whispered word, bathing the dark hall in a soft light. His part was done. He had opened the door to the next world with such a simple gesture that the whole plan seemed suddenly harder to believe. Then he felt the calming presence of Cole slip into his mind for an instant, soothing his thoughts before the air went cold, and he knew the spirit was gone, moving on to the next stage of their plan. Abelas had done his part. He turned on his heel and proceeded straight back to his quarters. It would not do well to be involved in what came next. 


	10. Chapter 10

She walked the fade that night. For the first time in a while, it reflected a scene of beauty rather than despair. A soft snow drifted from the sky, dusting the ground in glittering ivory. The village reflected familiar faces, moving about the town with the same purpose that they had before. Cullen commanded his troops like a lion at the head of his pride, finding satisfaction in the success of his men as they trained. Cassandra walked between the tents of the camp, just outside Haven’s walls, offering combat tips on a more personal level than Cullen was able.

The Iron Bull laughed with his chargers. It was a hearty noise that echoed throughout the valley. The group slid across the ice of Haven’s lake with childish expressions of joy that made Lavellan grin. Sera sat upon the dock nearby, a mug in her hands. No doubt some kind of alcohol. The Herald moved into the village with a sigh of content, spying Varric by the fire trading stories with a group of eager listeners. The dwarf waved as she passed.

Lavellan found herself marching up the steps toward the cabin that belonged to Solas. He had been so simple then, intriguing, charming, and mysterious in such a way that she couldn’t help but feel some kind of attraction. He had a way with words that often made her cheeks color with gentle blush. Of course, the others could paint her face red as well, but it was different. It was teasing and light, whereas Solas made her feel hot inside.

When the Herald finally made it up the hill, she scanned the area for the familiar bald head and sharp ears that made up her favorite fade expert. She found Cole watching her instead. The spirit said nothing and simply stared, but his eyes were far more real than the other aspects of her dream. Compassion tilted his head at her, and she suddenly felt a familiar tug. It was gentle but firm, pulling her from the fade and back into the Waking world. She groaned when she sat up in her bed, missing the vision she had conjured within her dream world. She ached for her friends.

There was something different about the room. The candles had burned out, but there was still light. It was not the kind that a fire presented. The soft blue filled her prison and she squinted when she found the source. It was the Eluvian, and it was open. Stranger still, her room was empty. She had taken a few seconds to scan the cell, but Abelas and Solas were nowhere to be seen. For a moment, she was confused. She didn’t know what to do. Then she felt an urgent shove against her consciousness, and everything became suddenly clearer.

Lavellan lunged from the bed, grabbed Dorian’s crystal, and ran, leaping through the mirror with a flash of light. She didn’t bother to change out of her gown and into something more suitable. She didn’t know how long her window of opportunity would remain open. The hall outside was unfamiliar and shadowy. It was a long corridor that seemed eerily empty, but she paid the discomfort no mind, moving forward as quietly as she could. Lavellan didn’t know if there would be guards patrolling the area, but she preferred not to find out.

Nothing happened as she traveled the hall. Nothing jumped out of her. Nothing screeched with rage. There was not even a hint of life other than her own fast beating heart as she reached the end of the corridor. There were two paths stretched out before her, right and left, though she had no sense of direction in a place she had never seen before. There was another nudge against her mind, a warm push that directed her to the left. Lavellan had no idea how to explain the sensation but she found herself trusting it as if it were simply instinct.

The presence continued to direct her throughout the temple. Nearly a half hour later, and she came across a broad set of doors that appeared to lead outside. Desperate, Lavellan pushed them open. Perhaps she should have checked for wards first. A second later and the entire structure trembled with a furious roar that was so inhuman; it chilled her to the bone. The cold weight of fear settled into her chest, and she knew her panic was justified. Something was coming, and it was powerful.

The former Inquisitor burst into the open, expecting to find soft grass and a moonlit sky. Instead she found a realm that swirled with a strange mist and sprouted vivid crystals from the rough ground. For as far as the eye could see, there were mirrors. Where they all led, she would likely never know, but she recognized the place as the Crossroads. The woman fled, hoping that the presence within her mind would direct her to an Eluvian she could escape through. But the warmth of the presence had gone cold, and she was left abandoned and terrified, wild eyes searching for a mirror that looked promising.

One of them was laced in vines of shining gold, dragons carved along the rim. Lavellan rushed toward it, pressing her hand against the surface. How had Morrigan opened the mirror in Skyhold? She directed her mana into the glass surface, only to find that the Eluvian shed it away with ease. Nothing changed. The doorway remained dark and closed. She could feel the moisture gathering within her eyes as she closed her hand into a fist a struck the mirror in frustration.

“Open, damn you! Open!” But it wouldn’t. The glass did not even crack under the force of her strike. She spun, seeking another, rushing to the Eluvian next to the last. It was a deep copper, adorned with stuffed fox tails. She thrust her magic at it, willing for something to happen _. Anything._ Her intent was clear as she projected it at the doorway. _Open. Open. Open. Please, open!_ Nothing appeared to work. Not fire, nor ice, or pure magical energy. The Eluvian weathered the spells without a slightest sign of damage, and it definitely wasn’t opening. She turned to find another. She had to keep trying. She couldn’t give up. But she never got the chance to run to anther doorway. As soon as she turned, she saw the man that approached her and nearly fell to her knees.

Solas wore a look of utter torment upon his features. His stride was hesitant, but he never faltered. No tears fell onto his cheeks, but his eyes glistened with them. There was a purpose there that she could not have mistaken. The sight of his jaw tight with determination was a frightful one. There was no escape. Perhaps she could fight? And then what…kill him? Was she even capable of such a thing? She had toyed with thoughts before, told herself that she would if there was no other choice, but in the face of him, she felt that focus slip away. Solas opened his mouth to speak, shoulders slouched.

“Why?” The voice trembled just as her body did. She wasn’t entirely certain as to what he was asking about. Why what? Why had she tried to escape?  That seemed the most logical answer.

“Solas I…I can’t just…not do anything. I have to try. You…you’re going to destroy everything and I can’t just let that happen.” She hadn’t cried since the first night she had spoken with Dorian, but now the tears fell down her face and she made no move to stop them. Solas frowned, though it was a gesture of sadness, not anger.

“I know Vhenan.” His words were barely a whisper and he seemed so suddenly resigned that she could only assume what his intentions were in that moment. She took a step back, and felt her shoulders brush against the firm surface of the mirror she had tried to open.

“You’re not taking me back to that prison. I won’t let you!” Lavellan directed her mana into her lone right arm, electricity dancing at her fingertips. It was a warning. He offered a slow nod in response.

“No. It was selfish of me to keep you there.” Solas responded. His words surprised her. For a moment, she had expected that he would drag her back to her room and leave her to die there.

“So…you’re going to let me go?” Lavellan sniffled, hopeful, but the light was crushed in the next instant.

“I’m…sorry. I can’t let you get in my way.” A cold silence stretched between them, and she felt numb as she tried to process the words her former love had just spoken to her. _He…he’s going to kill me? I’m going to die? But that’s not…I’ve come so far, I tried so hard! It isn’t fair!_ Magic came easier in the Crossroads than it did in the Waking world. Perhaps she was closer to the Fade. It barely took a thought to send a barrage of lightning down to strike his position. She wielded her mana with all her strength, defiant and angry.

“NO!” It was a wail that parted her lips next. She couldn’t let him. She couldn’t just roll over and die. Suddenly, her own mana slipped from her grasp as the air heated around her, pressing in like a heavy wool blanket. Her senses dulled with a strange comfort that she struggled to fight against and the mana she reached for was torn away, unattainable. How was he doing that? With her connection to magic cut away, the lightning ceased to exist. She saw that Solas had managed to throw a shimmering barrier over himself, just in time. The former Inquisitor hissed as she called for her magic again, but found with despair that she could no longer reach it. It fell from her grasp like water. Then her limbs felt weighted down as if tied with anchors, and she collapsed.

He was there to catch her when she fell, gentle, as he lowered her into his lap.

“Shhhh, Vhenan. It’s alright.” He ran a hand through her hair, and she enjoyed the feeling as she felt the fade tugging at the edge of her consciousness, as if she were soon to fall into a deep sleep. The darkness sang for her, promising a warm and peaceful embrace. There was a motion against her lips. Solas was kissing her, she realized, hushing her in a soothing tone. She discovered that she was sobbing, but the pain was starting to feel farther away, as if she had been drugged. “You’re safe now. Nothing can hurt you.” The sound of his voice had always been like a lullaby for her. Vaguely, she remembered that he was an enemy that she should be fighting, but the thought of resistance was torn away from her the moment it appeared.

“Hush, love. I’m right here and I’m not leaving you. Don’t cry. Everything is going to be okay.” His lips had moved away from hers to press lightly against the skin of her forehead. They were so hot all of the sudden, she realized she was shivering. The air had become so cold, but Solas was warm, and comfortable. In an instant, she felt entirely weightless, the pain of her life forgotten, torturous memories lost. It was just her, and Solas, in the way she had always wanted, together forever with him loving her just as she loved him. A small smile found its way onto her features, and he smiled in turn. She could barely process the sadness in it. Were there tears on his cheeks? Why? She was happy and they were together. It was the only thing she had ever wanted.

His mouth was moving again, his sweet voice drifting into her ears. “Ar lath ma, Vhenan.” It was the last thing she heard from him before the darkness claimed her. Suddenly, she was drifting, like a leaf in the wind, seemingly weightless. There was a light nearby, warm and beckoning. It reached for her and she reached for it. It drew her into arms that felt spectral, but they were the most solid thing she could find in her new world. Everything was gone, the pain, the fear, the anger, and she was safe, loved, and lost within the embrace she found herself relishing. When it pulled away, she saw the ethereal being’s form, a male with a lithe body, long hair, and a wide brimmed hat.

He was smiling at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be sure to keep a lookout for the next part of this series, "Risen For Him". Abelas has some 'splaning to do and the Veil is still a thing that exists, so that should be taken care of...NO MORE HINTS FOR YOU. Enjoy your holidays! :D 
> 
> Let me know what you thought of the story in the comments!


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